Five Years at Mike's
by Prince Jacque
Summary: "...we knocked on his door every night, because he would go in that office at midnight, and wouldn't come out until six in the morning. We had to check on him, make sure he was alive and well. If he wasn't, then neither were we..."
1. Siblings

(Yes, I know that cover is the fan-made Hetalia character, Mexico, but for this story, he is supposed to be Freddy. On Quotev, each chapter will have pictures showing how each character is supposed to look.)

**Genres: Tragedy, Drama.**

**Warnings/PossibleTriggers: ableism, alcoholism, mentioned past death, emotional/psychological abuse, mental illness, non-con, physical abuse, profanity, queerphobia, racism, explicit sexual content, slurs.**

**A/N: the entirety of the story is told from Freddy's first-person perspective.**

* * *

We weren't actually siblings, but we considered ourselves that because we came to the Autenburg foster home on the same day.

There was actually a girl who came in before I did. She was young and small in stature. She had golden curly locks cupping her head like an infant's hair. She had brown eyes and skin that was a little tanned for a white girl. In contrast, she wore a pretty dull brown dress with beaten sneakers. Her cocoa brown eyes were wide with fear of her new and unfamiliar home. All of the other kids around her had long gotten used to their surroundings, making her stick out like a black lamb.

At the time, I was just a bratty teenager who couldn't care any less about the other housemates around me. I only cared about my own situation and where I was going after this ordeal. Anger was still brewing within me as I damned my fate and even others who had nothing to do with it.

I slumped down against the concrete wall behind me right then and there, then slid down to the cold floor, tasting the bitterness that boiled in my heart. It wasn't long before I heard scuffling sounds coming towards me. I gritted my teeth in irritation at the mere idea of some toddler hoping to make a playmate out of my presence.

A tiny hand touched my broad, tanned one. It was cold and clammy.

"Uhm…excuse me, sir…" a small female voice squeaked nervously. I could hear a light Italian accent behind it. Of course, she was too young to have developed that deep of an accent "Why…are your clothes burned?"

I looked up at her cherub-like face and into her cocoa brown eyes gazing back at me in apologetic curiosity, then I looked back down at the scorched remains of my blazer.

And for the first time in my life, I cried.

* * *

Her name was Ciana, but she insisted on being called Chica, as she said her grandmother called her so much more often than her actual name. I was right to assume that she was Italian.

She was quite the imaginative girl. She spent several hours telling me stories and folklore that her family had passed on and even some she made up on her own. I listened, happy to see her fear of our new home had dissolved so easily upon meeting me. I had so much fun with her, being entrapped in her tales, that I didn't even realize how many hours had passed before another kid arrived.

At first glance, I couldn't tell what gender they were. They had short violet hair in a neat undercut and crystal blue eyes. They had an almost envious pallor of skin and gracefully androgynous face structure. They were too young to have developed any curves or muscles to indicate their sex. Their outfit had also caught my attention. It was a snug-fitting ensemble of a dark purple pants suit with a long-sleeved red shirt and an indigo bow tie. They seemed to be dressed rather fancy for someone who was being taken into a foster home.

"Huh? I don't have time to deal with a goddamned mute…" chided one of the men who led him into the room.

"Look, just feed 'm, keep 'm clean, and and make sure he don't die on us," snarked the other.

"_Ah, so he's a boy,_" I thought as I looked in their direction.

I was actually pretty glad, at the moment, to think of having another boy my age with me.

When they sat over on the old, worn out bed in the corner of the room, I noticed them clutching something to their chest.

Out of pure curiosity, I disregarded any etiquette I had and walked over to them to get a closer look at the item.

A notebook.

A thick one, at that.

I hadn't noticed that I had abandoned Chica and that she took the privilege of following me. Her attention was quickly directed away from me once she saw the kid.

I watched as she walked past me and approached the child with an extended hand "Hello, I'm Chica, and who might you be?"

The child shook her hand with a slight smile and began to flip through the pages on their notebook. They turned it around to show a pre-written message: "_Jean Bonnefoy. Please call me Bonnie_."

Of course, the first thought that ran through my mind was "_Why didn't he just say it?_"

At this point, I could assume Chica was really raised to have manners, because she only nodded and said "Well, in that case, I should probably tell you my real name, too. My name is Ciana Cremona, but my grandmama always called me Chica."

Bonnie nodded, turned to a fresh new page towards the back of the notebook and began to scribble a new response: "_That's a pretty name, honey._"

Chica chuckled in flattery, her cheeks reddening quickly.

Finally, I decided to speak up instead of just standing and watching "Hey, Bonnie, is it?" I questioned, making sure I was pronouncing it correctly "How old are you?"

They flipped to another page close to where they originally had their name written. Another pre-written message was scrawled: "_13_" I supposed they had these answers already written down because they were frequently asked and common questions.

"Oh, just a year behind me," I commented.

"And seven years ahead of me," Chica chimed in.

At that point, I figured I had broken the ice well enough to point out the elephant in the room "Bonnie, why aren't you talking?"

Their smile disappeared and it turned into something more vulnerable.

They turned to another page close to where their age and name were "_I can't talk. I'm mute. I use this notebook for people who don't know sign language._"

The man's words from earlier rang in my head: "…_a goddamned mute_…"

"_That's what it means to be mute?_" I thought "_It doesn't just mean to be deaf?_"

Suddenly Chica jumped "Oh! My papa just started teaching me sign language!"

Bonnie's smile returned and they began to scribble a new message: "_Can you show me?_"

The still excited blonde grinned widely as her hands danced across the air in an array of cryptic signs. Bonnie replied instantly in the same manner.

Feeling left out, I blurted "What's he saying?"

Just as Chica opened her mouth to answer me, Bonnie tapped her shoulder and signed another message to her, longer this time. She nodded understandably.

"At first, Bonnie said they were from France," she answered to me "Just now, they said they don't like to be called "he"."

I raised a brow "Why not?"

"Bonnie says they're not a boy, but they're not a girl," explained Chica "Bonnie says they're an androgyne."

"An…dro-gyne?" I attempted to sound out the word "You mean "androgynous"?"

"Yes," confirmed Chica "It means they're both a girl and a boy at the same time. Please, just use "they" when talking about them."

At the time, my narrow prepubescent mind was ready to dismiss the abnormal notion right away with a condescendingly rhetorical question. However, the minute I opened my mouth to speak, I caught sight of Bonnie's expectant pleading blue eyes. Their pale lips were pursed in nervousness.

"Okay. I will."

* * *

The second half of my first day in the foster home was frustratingly boring.

Bonnie and Chica spent hours signing each other, the young blonde's giggles taunting me from afar.

However, things quickly sparked up when a red-headed boy ran into the room.

No, he literally _ran_ in, immediately locking on to a discarded pirate toy in front of me.

His accent was a little thick, but I could get out the words "Wow! A pirate toy! Just like the one from Nana's!"

Over his excited ramblings, I decided to eavesdrop on the men who brought him in here again.

"You say his mama died givin' birth to 'm?"

"Yup."

"Then where the hell has he been these past nine years?"

"With this crazy homeless woman on the street."

"Tch, you couldn't just leave 'm with her?"

"I've gotta do my job, man."

Another fire of anger ignited in my gut and in that moment, I remembered why I couldn't stay too happy for too long in this place. They really didn't give a shit about us. They spoke however they wanted around us and didn't even have the respect to talk about us behind our backs.

"As if we didn't have enough retarded kids in here."

"Quit your bitching. It's just ADD."

I looked to the little Irish boy "_So that's why he's so hyper_," A sense of deep melancholy dowsed my flaming anger. Perhaps it was because he was another boy like me. Perhaps it was because he was being criticized for being so happy. Perhaps it was hearing how and why he was sent here. Either way, I grew an instant attachment to him.

I crouched to his level "Hey kid, I see you like pirates," I said.

His green eyes sparkled with joy "Yeah! Aren't they amazing?" he cheered, holding the toy in his hand.

"Definitely adventurous," I said.

"And so courageous!" he beamed at the pirate toy in his hand as he started to shift it into a new pose "I've always wanted to be as brave as a pirate. They can travel wherever they want without worry!"

I felt my face spread into a smile.

"I'd call myself Foxy- King of Pirate Cove!" he looked back up to me "What do you wanna be when you grow up? Will you give yourself a new name?"

I chuckled "Heh, I'm pretty content with Fredward Antonio III for now," I then thought to myself "_As for what I wanna be?…Alive would be nice, loved, and happy, too_."

* * *

**The chapters are gonna be pretty short since it's just Freddy documenting each moment in his life.**


	2. Father

**Glad to see all the positive feedback for just the first chapter. Thanks, everyone! :)**

* * *

It was a year before he took us in.

Twelve whole months of living in Autenberg.

Three-hundred sixty-five days, give or take.

In that amount of time, I learned quite a few things.

One fact that took a little longer for me to understand was that the foster home was not in Spain. I should have suspected that when the white men took me away for that long drive. They spoke in a language that was extremely strange to me and so I avoided speaking to them. However, I realized that they had also spoken English, a language my neighborhood was thankfully familiar with.

The first English statement I asked them was "Where are we going?"

A sleazy one simply answered "Autenberg Foster Care."

I refused to ask any other questions after that.

It wasn't until I was actually in the foster home that I realize I had been taken to a new country entirely. We hardly left the actual building, so I didn't have the opportunity to explore the differences of this country's streets compared to the ones in my home. A few select kids like Bonnie, Foxy, Chica and myself were from different parts of Europe. None of them were from Spain, though. I was the only brown face in the building. Although, there were a good chunk of kids with us who spoke the same strange language as the men who took me in and the people who ran the foster home. I was just lucky that Chica, Bonnie and Foxy were also acquainted with English. It wasn't unrealistic though. English was a necessity to be educated in.

One day, I grew uncomfortable with the cryptic language spoken around us and asked Chica where she believes we are.

She told me we were in Germany.

Another thing I learned while I lived in that building was that we didn't live in that foster home. We were _trapped_.

Those people just barely kept us alive and breathing so that we could look appealing to any amateur parent that walked in. For food, we were given stale bread, boiled potatoes and their weird processed German sausage. We ate that every day no matter what meal it was. Its taste is still permanently tattooed on my tongue. Shockingly, they had a surplus of the food. We probably shouldn't have been all that surprised, though, since it was such low quality food. No one ever competed for it. In fact, some kids would starve themselves out of frustration until they finally gave into their pleading hunger. Every time I ate the Germans' sausage, I tried ever so hard to imagine it was my father's lechazo, just so I could swallow it down.

I could only be thankful that they hired maids to keep the place clean. Of course, they only did so because they didn't want us to get sick. No one wants to adopt a sick and dying kid. I just wish they cared enough to give us more clothes than the ones we came in with. At the end of the day, we would simply peel off our clothes, hand them to the maids and swap them out for smocks that were supposed to suffice for sleeping gowns.

They didn't care to separate the girls and the boys in the bedrooms, so Bonnie and I would set the little brats straight if they ever tried to get frisky with the girls. Our dominance and age advantage over the others earned us the title as the Big Brothers of everyone, in spite of Bonnie's gender. However, we didn't want to be responsible for all of the kids. There were really only two kids we genuinely cared for.

"Hey kids, it's Teddy Fazbear!"

Chica and Foxy roared into laughter, the red-headed boy clutching his stomach and rolling over to his side.

I found an old, ragged teddy bear in the toy box of the playroom a few hours ago. I've been entertaining Chica and Foxy with it like a puppet and put on my best stereotypical American white voice. The two found it much more funny than I expected them to. I suppose we all found the generic American accent rather funny due to our native homes.

At some point, Foxy exclaimed "Freddy Fazbear!" in a fit of excitement.

I chuckled at the boy's diction "Freddy Fazbear?"

"Ah, yes! That's perfect, Foxy!" Chica said.

Bonnie signed to us that they agreed. That was another thing I learned while I was in this foster home. Bonnie had taken the time to teach Chica, Foxy and I sign language so we could all communicate with one another. Of course, with Foxy's befuddled attention span, he never fully got the hang of it, but he can still understand us and that was all that mattered.

"_I think it's an adorable nickname, Freddy_," Bonnie signed to me with a teasing smile.

I shook my head "Of course you do, Bon."

We continued toying with the worn out teddy bear, laughing gleefully as we ridiculed the voice I had assigned to it. Even Bonnie could laugh. I liked their voice. It was smooth and elegant for someone their age.

While we were laughing, I realized the door had opened and there had been a new man's voice speaking for quite a while.

"…that group of kids over there looks like they're having a lot of fun…"

While the others were still joking around with the bear, I looked over my shoulder and saw a man.

He was a modest age, probably in his thirties. He had sandy brown hair in a combed over undercut and dark brown eyes adorning black-rimmed glasses. His features were pretty sharp and he was rather thin for an adult man. He wore a denim button-down shirt and a pair of even darker denim jeans.

He was grinning in our direction, but it was a smile I hadn't seen in a long time. It was a smile of genuine joy. It wasn't filled with greed or faked. He looked truthfully happy to see us.

"Which one do you want?" asked one of the workers.

The man fiddled with his fingers "Uhm…is it possible that I can talk with all four of them?"

The worker shrugged "Knock yourself out," he then turned to us "You guys," Upon uttering the two words, each one of us perked up our heads to attention. With an incline of his head, the worker nonverbally called us over to him.

We complied and approached him and the man "Kids, this nice man would like to get to know you," he said.

Of course, he and other workers like him were only acting this courteous when they were in front of people outside the building. They would never pay us this amount of respect.

* * *

"Well, hi kids. My name is Mike Schmidt," If I wasn't mistaken, I would have thought the man was insecure around us. He was carful, unsure of how to politely interact with children.

"Hey Mike. My name's Foxy!" greeted our red-headed sibling in his exuberance.

"I'm Chica," the youngest squeaked with her hands clasped over each other like a well-mannered woman.

We were sitting in what we dubbed "The Conference Room" where kids and adults would sit and talk with one another to show if the adult really wanted to adopt the kid. There was a faded wooden desk between Mike and us. We were lined up, side by side, in our own chairs.

I decided to spare Bonnie the effort to turning to the correct page on their notebook to introduce themself "They're Bonnie," I said, pointing towards the violet-haired child.

I could see the Mike's eyebrow twitch slightly in confusion, but he didn't make any remark.

"And he's Freddy," chirped Chica.

A faint hint of a blush painted my face. Even though it was a common nickname, I thought it was pretty ridiculous for a guy like me.

"Ah, Freddy, what a nice name," Mike commented. His brown eyes roamed to my hand "And I suppose we should introduce this little guy, too?"

I realized he was motioning towards the raggedy bear in my hand, which I hadn't noticed I was still holding.

"Well, this guy's the one who's really named Freddy," I said "He's Freddy Fazbear. I'm Fredward Antonio."

"Oh," remarked Mike in acknowledgement "Well in that case, you both have very nice names."

* * *

I liked Mike. He was much different from the other adults I faced. He wasn't fake. He wasn't after materialistic things like money. He was friendly, reassuring, the kind of man who had all the answers. I could tell the others liked him, too, which was good, since he apparently had no intention of separating us.

At first I was suspicious. I mean, what kind of person would want to adopt four children, two of them breaching their teens, all at once? However, after getting to know Mike, I couldn't imagine him having any bad intentions. He just wasn't that kind of guy.

I was sad when he left at first. Even when I knew he was coming back to adopt us, I wanted nothing more than to go home with him and my newfound siblings. He told us he had a wife at home who was eager to be a mother, too.

I knew I should have been outraged by the mere idea of having my parents replaced, but that fire had long since been extinguished. I had accepted that my parents were dead and I was lucky enough to have any caretakers at all. It hurt like a bitch to admit it, but I had to. It had been a whole year after all, and a man and a woman were offering their all to be my parents. I could at least be grateful about that, knowing the other children in Autenburg wouldn't be given the same.

* * *

**Lechazo- a Spanish dish made from veal (lamb meat).**

**A/N: When Freddy does the Fazbear voice, he's supposed to sound like MrCreepyPasta when he makes his FNAF audios. Also, I don't mean to make Freddy sound like one of those annoying Social Justice Warrior on Tumblr who hates white people on sight. This story is pretty raw and as a person of color, Freddy feels kinda threatened by white people.**


	3. Family

The first six months that we lived there were the best I've had in my life.

Mike had brought us home to meet his wife, also known as our new mom. Her name was Carmella. She wasn't like the stereotypical housewife. She was a fresh, modern day type of woman. She had chocolate curls for hair that she would lazily tie into a ponytail and crystal blue eyes. She was about the same height as Mike and had a wry smirk that instantly infused you with ease whenever she flashed it. She was a definite tomboy and a free spirit, but thankfully, she knew her limits. She knew was still a parent and had to remain an adult for us.

As the only two females in the house, she and Chica got along beautifully. Carmella beamed at her insight and intelligence. I was genuinely glad that the girl finally had a woman to look up too. Sure, Bonnie and I did a decent job taking care of her, but I still think Chica deserved to have a female she can relate to.

Carmella and Mike, together, made sure to treat Foxy's ADD with care and were very tolerant of his behavior. Sure, they would correct his behavior here and there, but it was needed. A mental illness couldn't be helped, but that didn't mean the boy couldn't learn common mannerisms and niceties. If anything, he was pretty quick to catch on, especially with the medical care he had also gotten.

Like Foxy's illness, our new parents also worked around Bonnie's muteness and accepted that we would translate for them. Bonnie's gender was just as easily accepted. Mike said he had assumed the individual was non-binary once I referred to them as "they" when we met at Autenberg. Carmella apparently had a transgendered boyfriend back in college and passed her knowledge about genderqueers and the trans community to Mike. After hearing that, Chica asked if Carmella could educate us as well. She happily obliged.

The four of us attended school, Chica and Foxy going to elementary school. As a fifteen year old, I was a freshman in high school, which was unfortunate because I wanted to protect Bonnie, who was still in junior high, from bullies.

They were ridiculed for being mute. I guess the bullies figured that because they weren't like the deaf students and they were _choosing_ not to talk, they deserved to be teased. They were also called "gay" and a "faggot" for the way they dressed and acted. Bonnie wouldn't tell me these things up front, but I noticed flowering bruises budding on their skin everyday. Carmella had long since asked about them as well, but all Bonnie had to do was lie to her and the woman would respect their privacy and leave the topic. Thankfully, I was much more abrasive.

I cornered them when we were about to turn in for the night and out of frustration, they spilled all the details. One thing I learned about Bonnie was that they hardly ever expressed emotions, but if you were to prevent them from getting the sleep they want, they'll show no mercy.

Mike and Carmella jumped on the bullying situation with a lot of vigor. Bonnie said it helped, but I never found out if it was true or they were lying again.

I think the happiest day we ever shared together was when Mike and I were grocery shopping. I was busy looking for my favorite brand of jerky when Mike called me over. When I came over to him, it had turned out that he had found an entire line of toys from the same company as the one who made Chica's "Freddy Fazbear" toy. He had decided on the spur of the moment to buy five new toys to go along with it; a fox, a rabbit, a puppet, a boy with a pinwheel hat, and a baby bird. I say "bird" because the rest of the drive home, Mike and I debated on whether it was a baby chicken or duck. Once Chica got her hands on it, she declared it to be a baby chicken.

The worst day we've ever shared together was also shared with Mike. I had just finished winning another round of Kirby's Yarn Adventures with Bonnie when he pulled me to the side. He said he trusted me with this information at the time because I was the eldest, even though Bonnie was only a year behind me. I could see the red puffiness in his eyes and his cheeks streaked in dried tears. He was seated on the guest bedroom futon with his hands fidgeting over each other and his head hung. I stood before him with the door closed behind me, looking at his pitiful state. I didn't like seeing Mike like that. It made me feel sick.

He asked me if I had noticed how often Carmella had been staying in bed. I told him yes. He then asked if I wanted to know why she was laid off from her job. I wanted to tell him no.

Apparently, the reason all four of us were adopted at once was because Carmella had had four failed pregnancies in her attempt to have children over the years. Mike said he got news from the hospital that explained why.

It happened so fast.

It was just two weeks after that talk.

I think out of everyone, Chica took it the hardest. She had lost her best friend, after all. I could tell it was eating her alive because she was the one person who hadn't cried. Her eyes told a different story. The cocoa brown orbs were vacant and empty. The girl looked as though Carmella had taken her along on her trip to heaven.

The day after our mother's passing, Mike had gotten into a heated argument with his cousin Jeremy. I couldn't quite figure out who was in the wrong, but I didn't care. Our mother had just died for Jesus' sake. I didn't have the patience nor the time to fuss over a family rivalry that had nothing to do with me. Besides, I always overheard Mike and Carmella gossip about what a nuisance Jeremy was in the past. What importance could he have with us?

About a week after the funeral, we began to receive a lot of phone calls from this one man. We never caught his name or saw his face because he was an abroad friend of Mike, but we referred to him as The Phone Guy. He would always call Mike on the landline in his office and ask how he was doing. Mike appreciated the sentiments, but unfortunately, The Phone Guy was a talker and Mike quickly got irritated with his calls. He would either choose to ignore his calls or put in on speaker and let the man babble on.

Like every family, we were able to recover from the loss. My siblings and I were just fine. We supported each other and filled in the place of our mom. However, Mike was detached. He made no effort to try and reach out to us. He carried a shadow of sorrow and grief with him wherever he went. But…my siblings and I…we were so jovial about our recovery, that we paid no mind to our father. We shouldn't have been so selfish. We should have asked how he was doing instead of celebrating our own peace with Carmella's death. We should have watched over him before it was too late.

The day when he locked the door in that office for the first time was the day it all ended. It was the day that the best six months of my life were over.

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter, everyone, but I really want to focus on chapter content and not just the word count.**


	4. Office

**I might be slower on the updates since I'm doing my junior research paper at the moment, but it's only for a short period of time.**

* * *

"_Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to see how you've been doing since, well, the funeral service and everything. Um, I didn't get to see you at the repass, but I did get to see the kids. I hope you all are holding up well. So, I know all of this can be a bit overwhelming, especially with the kids, but I'm here to tell you that I'm here for you. Uh, you'll be fine. So, let's just focus on getting things back to the way they were. Okay?_"

If you listened closely, you could hear Mike's friend leaving his message on the answering machine. We got to meet him in person for the first time at the repass. Although he was white, his skin wasn't as pale as the German folk around here. He must have been from a state where more sunlight hit its people. He was tall with an endearing smile almost as comforting as our mother's. His kind eyes were as green as plant life and his short brown hair comparable to that of tree bark. Beneath his hair, I noticed the cotton of bandages. None of us dared to question it.

He was an honest and open man with more awkwardness than Mike. Surprisingly, it made him all the more approachable. He focused his attention on consoling us as well as the other grieving members of our new family that we had never gotten the chance to meet. He told us his name was Gilbert, but we still nicknamed him Phone Guy.

He asked where Mike was.

I didn't have the guts to tell him our father was having a heated argument with Jeremy.

"_Uh, let's see…oh! Did you get the cake I sent? Uh, it's kind of a layered chocolate-vanilla type of dessert, you know. Enough for the whole family! Um, but don't let me take credit for it. My partner made it. He owns a bakery just down the street from here. If you guys ever come to the states, I would love for you to go there._"

Mike holed himself up in his office ever since the funeral. We just assumed he was working or enjoying his privacy as anyone would. So we just tended to our own affairs.

Bonnie was the first one to intervene and knock on the west door. When I asked what they were doing, they said they smelled alcohol. Scared, I slammed my palm against the wooden door until Mike opened it for us.

His blue eyes held a blurry sleaziness that disgusted me. One of the buttons on his shirt was undone as if he had gotten too hot in his drunken haze. He absolutely _reeked_ of liquor.

I was caught off guard by the unfamiliar man before me, the man that I was supposed to believe was the kind man who took us into his home "What do you think you're doing?!" I scolded, unsure of what to say.

Mike scowled at me as if I were some type of nuisance.

"Go to bed, guys," he slurred "I'm trying to relax."

"You've been in there for _hours_," I said "You have kids who need attention but instead you're drinking away the day."

Mike raised a hand to strike me, but I swatted it away before it could land on my face. I was nearing sixteen and I was growing to be a match to Mike in terms of muscle.

He grunted, glaring daggers at me "You two are old enough to take care of yourselves."

Just as I opened my mouth to yell at him, the door slammed in my face.

"_Now I know things may be difficult for now, but it's going to turn up soon. I promise. Uh, if you ever need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to call me. Okay? Good. Just keep your head up and remember: nothing lasts forever, meaning this grieving period is going to end and you'll be happy again. Just you, the kids, your family and friends. We'll all be happy together._"

We told Chica and Foxy to steer clear of Mike's office, but of course we didn't tell them the truth. We told them Mike needs some alone time due to Carmella's death because "different people grieve in different ways". Bonnie was much better at handling them than I was.

However, I found out that Chica had been sneaking around to the east door at night to check on Mike. She would peer into the window and watch Mike guzzle down beer after beer. Once, I finally caught Chica in the act. We must have made too much noise because Mike had chucked the beer bottle at the window where it smashed into several pieces.

"_So, just remember that Carmella is in a better place now and she's not suffering anymore. Uh, I don't want to turn the situation on myself, but my grandmother passed recently. Uh, y'know, so we're kind of in the same boat. Uh…sorry, I-I just don't want you to feel alone._"

Now Bonnie had to patrol the west door to make sure Chica didn't try to sneak past them. They quickly found out that if they just stood by the east door, Chica will just wait in hiding until they left for bed. So they remained in the west wing, listened for Chica and then put her to bed if she ever wandered the halls again.

However, while at they were new post, Bonnie found another problem.

Foxy had caught Chica's contagious curiosity.

The boy thought it was all fun and games and would run down to the west door to surprise Bonnie. It became habitual for the lanky teenager to catch Foxy in mid-leap. On time, however, Foxy actual managed to jump _into_ Mike's office with an energetic squeal of excitement.

The boy waltzed out of the office with a red hand-shaped mark on his cheek.

Horrified, Bonnie took the red-head into his arms, who surprised them by throwing his head back in laughter. He told us the reason he was so pleased was because he had succeeded in getting Mike to interact with him again.

"_Uh, now I also wanted to answer a question you may get asked sooner or later. You see, a few of your family members and the kids have noticed about the bandages beneath my hair. Uh, remember when I said my partner and I were going camping a while ago? Well, we had a slight run-in with a bear. Well, I should say _I_ had the run-in. It's amazing how the human body can live without the frontal lobe._"

It continued like this for months. Mike had become nothing more than a source of income for us. How he managed to drag himself out of his bed every morning and go to work was a mystery to me. That was the only time he was a functioning human being. But as soon as he entered the house, he went back to being a roaming mass. To him, we were nothing but bothersome entities in his space that he intended to avoid at all costs. Thankfully, he never tried to hit any of us again. If we got too close to him, he would merely push us away like obstacles.

"_Y-Yeah, funny how life works that way. Crazy incidences just seem to happen with no rhyme or reason. But hey, I'm just grateful for the good things life gives us, y'know? I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check the mail, and spend time with the kids. Gotta keep a positive attitude. Alright, good night, Mike!_"

We were close to losing our father, too close to losing both of our parents as quickly as we had gained them. But we had to make sure that didn't happen. So we knocked on the door of that tiny cubicle office as Phone Guy's messages piled up. We knocked on his door every night, because he would go in that office at midnight, and wouldn't come out until six in the morning. We had to check on him, make sure he was alive and well. If he wasn't, then neither were we.

* * *

**After editing the original script of Phone Guy, I just came to realize how often the man says "Uh". Resisting the urge to edit them out was near impossible for me. Also, yes I made Phone Guy have a boyfriend, but he's a little too shy to directly call him that. So he calls him his partner.**


	5. Age

I was sixteen when Bonnie joined me in high school. I was elated to be able to spend more time with them. Also, I was guaranteed to be able to protect them from any potential bullies that decided to make a decent victim out of my sibling like they had in junior high.

Thankfully, in such a diverse high school, people respected Bonnie's muteness. Although, their amount of pity for them was a little embarrassing and borderline patronizing. They also avoided Bonnie as if they were some delicate flower that could be crushed by a single breath. Bonnie admitted that the isolation made them feel rather lonely. Even if the students didn't avoid them, there was still the issue of none of them knowing sign language. This left only the deaf kids' classroom for Bonnie to communicate with, which wasn't a wide selection with only twelve students in total.

Bonnie's solitude wasn't so bad in their opinion. They claimed to be able to focus more on work, which proved to be true when they were moved into AP classes and college courses. They were also thankful not to have to deal with ignorant kids who would bully them face to face. My favorite part about the whole situation was when Bonnie would talk shit about the other students via sign language with me and no one would have a clue.

Yup, that was one thing no one would suspect about Bonnie. Despite their quiet nature, they can be pretty sassy.

One thing people did notice, however, was Bonnie's flamboyancy in the way they dressed. Girls thought it was pretty hot, but ultimately assumed "he's gay". Guys assumed the same thing, but didn't find it "hot" in the slightest. They were pretty uncomfortable and disgusted. Even though they didn't say anything to either of us, it still pissed me off the way people judged Bonnie.

* * *

I wasn't naive to the changes I was to expect in my body as I grew up. I was already 5'7 and the weight training class I took in place of my P.E. period only highlighted the muscles I had been growing into. I also had begun to grow a decent layer of stubble around my chin. Like any normal teenager, I should have reveled in my transition from a boy into a man, but I couldn't. Every time I looked into the mirror and saw the man in the reflection, little by little, he was starting to metamorphose into my dad.

There was only one way I could differentiate myself from my dad and the miserable memories tied to his face. I stopped cutting my hair. The charcoal locks grew wavy and thick, reminding me a lot of how Jesus' hair was. It went perfectly with my crucifix necklace that I made sure to wear everyday.

One time, Bonnie saw me sporting my unruly hair after a day sweating it out in the weight room. I didn't mind, but Bonnie narrowed their icy blue eyes and clicked their tongue in one of the very rare moments you could hear their voice.

Without even signing anything to me, Bonnie approached me with open arms and pulled my hair into a low ponytail with one of the many scrunchies they often hid beneath their shirt sleeves. They then pulled out one of my wavy locks to hang beside my ear.

"Bonnie-" I was about to protest, but then Bonnie pointed towards the mirror in the trophy case flush against the hallway wall. I walked up to the wooden stand and squinted to look beyond our school's sport's trophies and into my reflection.

Needless to say, I was satisfied and impressed with what I saw. The ponytail kept my masculinity, but also highlighted my youth by being held away from my face. I shouldn't have been surprised, though, since Bonnie does an amazing job personalizing all of our wardrobes. I never go on a shopping trip without them.

* * *

I couldn't help but notice Bonnie was maturing in their own way. Their body was growing into its natural male figure. They were much more slender than I was, but not lanky or scrawny like Foxy. Their muscles were minute, but present. Bonnie's pale skin accented the muscles beneath them. It was a creamy white that looked like nothing had ever flawed their skin.

Bonnie kept their undercut, but parted it on the left side and allowed it to loosen to give them a more mature look.

They also kept their androgynous dress up to date as they aged. Occasionally, they would dress solely masculine or feminine, even wearing skirts and dresses if they felt confident enough.

Foxy, now more mature and bold with his age, one day commented on Bonnie's outfit choice.

"Hey, if you're a guy and a girl at the same time," the redhead paused to crunch on the mouthful of apple he had previously bitten into "Do you wear men and women's underwear?"

Both Bonnie and I were slightly shocked by the question. I admit that I blushed a little, thinking Foxy was kidding, but it didn't take long to realize he was serious.

Bonnie thought the same thing since they also chuckled. However, a bright look glazed over their icy blue eyes.

"_Actually, I think I'll start doing that_," signed Bonnie "_There's a Victoria's Secret in Peach Hill Mall that I was thinking of working at. I could get an employees' discount if I were to get hired._"

Bonnie had mentioned working at that Victoria's Secret since their sixteenth birthday was coming up. However, I wasn't sure if they meant it. I also had low doubts since their muteness could get in the way of being hired. Still, there were much worse things they could be afflicted with that I've seen several people in the workforce have.

Eventually, they were able to land a spot as the janitor, seeing as it didn't involve any talking. They also became good friends with the older female workers, who, because of their age, were more accepting of Bonnie than the girls at our high school.

Bonnie was very happy to be able to get the job.

When Bonnie got the women's underwear they wanted, I found myself feeling "happy" too…

* * *

I followed Bonnie's footsteps and found myself a job at a Foot Locker in the same mall. I was elated to have another reason to pump my ego. I was officially a man with a steady income and responsibility. I could practically feel the independence flowing through my veins. However, I had to remember the big picture. This money couldn't just be spent on me. I had to save it.

With how unstable Mike was, I had no idea how long he would keep his job or if he would be responsible with the money he earned every week. Bonnie and I were not only working for ourselves, but for Foxy and Chica, too. They needed a regular replacement of clothes with the growth spurts they were experiencing. It also wouldn't be fair to buy luxuries for ourselves and not do the same for our younger siblings. Bonnie bought Chica that Cutie Cupcake bed set, complete with the plushy. If you ask me, I thought the plushy's eyes were pretty creepy. At twelve, Foxy wasn't all that amused by pirate toys, so I bought him a book on pirates. Needless to say, he loved it.

* * *

I have to admit, working at Foot Locker wasn't a perfect deal. When I first got there, the manager was disgustingly patronizing. He even emphasized his words and purposely spoke in a much more clear voice than he did when speaking to his other employees.

The other employees were a little distant towards me, as if I wasn't included in some inside joke they were all in. Eventually, I was able to befriend one of them. She was different. For one, she was a black woman. She also didn't seem to alienate me like the others. Her name was Charlotte.

One day, while we were standing at the cash registers in wait of the customers, I began to joke around with her about our manager, Mr. Kempt.

"Does he treat everyone like that?" I questioned, looking down at her. Despite being younger than Charlotte, she was shorter than me.

"Like what?" she asked, popping a stick of gum into her mouth.

"Like a kid with a second grade education," I laughed "Seriously, the way he talks to me, it's like-"

Charlotte scoffed "He always does this."

I felt my eyebrows strewn up in confusion from the disgust in her tone "Does what?"

Charlotte looked up at me with a stale face "He always thinks people who aren't white can't speak fucking English."

Curious as to whether it was some irritated exaggeration, I uttered "What?"

"Well, with the exception of black people like me," continued Charlotte "He just thinks we're illiterate," her gaze wandered idly to a customer she assumed she approaching the counter, but ended up walking past us.

"Wait, so Mr. Kempt just assumed I was some illegal alien or some shit?" I spat, staring directly into Charlotte's profile with a heated gaze.

"I'm surprised the racist fuck didn't straight-up ask you if you spoke English," she said.

I wanted to stomp right out of that store. I wanted to take Charlotte with me and never walk back into that shack of ignorance, but I knew I wasn't a child anymore and I couldn't just throw a tantrum at my leisure. If I was going to leave the establishment, I would do it like an adult.

I planned ahead and mapped out how I would get myself out of the terrible situation. However, a decision was made for me that would make all of my effort for naught.

* * *

**Wow. Such Bonnie-centric. Very bunny. Is possible FredBon? Maybe.**


	6. Red

**I've gotta apologize in advance if I'm inaccurate with Foxy's ADD characteristics. Researching and hearing from ADD sufferers is one thing, but accurately creating a character with ADD is near impossible unless you experience it yourself. I would think the same goes for any mental illness. So yeah, I did my best.**

* * *

Mike has reached the peak of bullshit.

The other week, he finally slipped on the job and was fired. I snapped at him during dinner, or at least, when dinnertime used to be. I ordered Foxy and Chica to get out of the room. Bonnie was old enough to decide whether or not they wanted to back me up or stay out of the way. They could always help me if things got ugly.

Mike and I spat harsh words at each other. I had never felt so much hate for my own father at that point. Three years ago, I would have never imagined speaking to Mike this way. Bonnie told me that they were sure that Mike probably felt the same way. They said that Mike would never act like this and that the demons of liquor and grief are what turned him into this new man.

I was reminded of the argument the next morning when I woke up to a purple hand-shaped bruise stretched across my face along with some bruising around my jaw. I would have asked Bonnie for some of their makeup, but their ivory foundation would look ridiculous on my caramel skin. Besides, we had to go to school that day and we didn't have the time to do an impromptu makeover. And wouldn't you know it, I had forgotten that it was picture day. So the next month, when I opened the mailbox, there were pictures inside reminding me of that painful night and the even more agonizing school day of people assuming that I got into a fight. Heh, crazy isn't it? You would think the teachers would be wondering if I had an abuser at home. I guess that only happens in movies. In reality, when they see a burly Latino man like me with a bruise, they can only assume that I was the one who caused trouble.

I hate to make discriminatory remarks about white people, having my beloved siblings and passed away mother being white, but sometimes, I can't help myself. I was never as calm and rationalizing as Bonnie. I had a short temper. I was aggressive and highly opinionated. Hell, I'm pretty sure the only reason I even humbled myself at all was because of my siblings. But when injustice rears it's ugly head, it just comes out, like a sneeze. The eyes of oppression burn my skin to the very core, but the venomous words that slip from my tongue burn even more with acidity. I hate it because that means I've become one of them. It means that I have become my oppressors.

* * *

As a result of Mike's lost job, Bonnie's and my job at the mall wasn't an option anymore. Bonnie was lucky not to have to endure a racist boss like I had at my job. I still had Charlotte at my side for support, which was a good thing. Like Bonnie, she was able to keep my temper down to a minimum. But she was much more aggressive and assertive than Bonnie. She never lashed out or anything, but you can just tell by the energy she gives off that she's not one to mess with.

Bonnie and I didn't earn much money together. We had to start making more wise decisions when we bought groceries. Somehow, we were able to make ends meet by avoiding name brands and working together to nail the lowest-costing stores.

But we didn't even _think_ about the bills that would come in.

Just looking at the electric bill made me want to puke all over the table. And I could tell by the look in Bonnie's eyes that they weren't exactly expecting this either.

Of course, we were able to pay them off, but at the cost of fewer and fewer meals put on the table. Bonnie and I even had to visit the school to switch Foxy and Chica down to a reduced lunch. Thankfully, they were able to take Bonnie and I as adults and we were able to convince them that we were the guardians, not Mike.

Chica's baby fat was disappearing at a much more rapid rate than we figured was healthy and Foxy's lanky figure grew almost skeletal. I had to think of something fast and getting a second job wasn't exactly the speediest of solutions.

While Bonnie and I were filling out applications for new jobs, we made another sacrifice: a garage sale. The reason it could be called a sacrifice was because the primary items sold were our toys and games.

Foxy damn near threw a fit and I couldn't blame him. First we had to cut down on TV time to ease the burden of the electric bill. Now he couldn't even play games to fill his time. No amount of explaining could ease his frustration. And again, I could not blame him.

Chica was somber, too, but she didn't express it, much like her emotions at our mother's funeral.

We let them keep a few things, though. Chica could keep her bunny, fox, bear and chicken toys. Foxy could keep his pirate book and his pirate toy from the orphanage.

* * *

In the end, our efforts were worth it. Bonnie and I split the money evenly and planned for our next month's meals. We were able to make little methods to keep our bills low. Showers instead of baths. Turn off everything when you leave the room. Open the windows instead of turning on the air. Open the blinds instead of turning on the light.

Again, we were so concentrated on these little rules, that we forgot about Mike's presence in the house. We didn't know where he was eating or if he was still drinking. He would leave the house occasionally and come back after an undetermined amount of hours. I didn't care, so long as he didn't undo our efforts. They were so hard to maintain.

Sometimes my temper would run short when Chica and Foxy broke the rules. I would unwittingly scold my brother over simply forgetting to turn off the light or yell at my sister for taking too long of a shower. I could tell Foxy was slowly getting more and more pissed off about our living arrangements. I feared that he might even start to hate me. My concern only rose when Bonnie got a call from the school: Foxy had gotten into a fight.

Eventually, these fights became more and more frequent. Foxy would stay home more often due to suspensions. Again, I grew angry at him, especially when I realized that he was not a victim in this. He was the one initiating these fights, damn near bullying kids until they threw the first punch. Then he would lie to cover it up. He was smart, but he hadn't considered the security cameras nor the witness accounts from his other classmates. On some level, I was glad that he was smart with his fights. He would stretch his fights apart from one another so he wouldn't raise suspicion. The breaks in between the fights led teachers to presume that these fights weren't serious and it was simply "Boys being boys". This protected him from possibly being expelled, or worse, given a criminal record for assault and battery.

We gave Foxy a stern talking to and, of course, he denied any of it being his fault. He blamed it on unrelated things like the teachers picking on him or the kids seeking out attention. He even had a tantrum and began yelling when he had run out of excuses.

Our relationship with Foxy was becoming strained. No longer was he the hyperactive, ambitious and adventurous brother we knew and loved. He was anger. Not _angry_, but anger itself.

A cold fire was burning white in his core, smoldering and bottled up within his frail body. We should have expected him to explode at some point. But no matter how many times he exploded, the fire would just be relit. It's as if his red-hot anger was limitless. There was no way to put it out. The burn could only be released for a brief moment before starting again. Violence became Foxy's drug and his fury was the withdrawal.

* * *

**Foxy nu...**


	7. Promise

**Goodness, you wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get back to updating this! First, I lost my story notes. Then I had to re-read the story to try and remember what my notes were. Then I had to adjust to my new laptop! And of course, there's school, me trying to run a Tumblr blog to promote my stories, drawing art for new stories, etc.**

**But I can't complain. I like these new challenges keeping me on my toes. That way, I'm never bored! :)**

* * *

A glimmer of hope shined upon our home when Mike finally put himself out on the job market. At that, Bonnie and I could both give a sigh of relief. We no longer felt the pressing obligation of our jobs and weighing out budgets every night. However, that didn't mean we would immediately drop our jobs the moment Mike got hired. We had to play things safely, after all.

Besides, Bonnie and I were starting to enjoy the environments of our work spaces. Bonnie's female coworkers were becoming like an extension of our family, which, now that I think about it, probably isn't the appropriate phrase to use since Bonnie has told me that they've developed romantic feelings for one of the women. In a way, this made me puff out my chest a bit in pride. The person everyone at school assumed was gay was only steps away from getting into a relationship with a female. This didn't necessarily make Bonnie straight, though. They've told me that they were bisexual. I couldn't help but find this amazingly ironic: someone who identifies as both a male and a female is attracted to men and women.

Over at my humble abode at Foot Locker, Charlotte and I hadn't developed a relationship past friendship, but we definitely had been intimate before. I didn't brag about it to anyone, not even Bonnie. Being my first experience, there were a lot of embarrassing moments for me. Even though Charlotte was patient and understanding, it still grazed my ego a bit. I'm just glad it was Charlotte. If I had to lose my virginity to someone, who better to lose it to than someone as honest as her? Although, if she asked me if I'd like to go again, I'd have to decline.

* * *

Although Mike hadn't returned back to the loving father he was, he had started to get his shit together. Getting a job was one thing, since it benefitted him also. However, he actually started speaking to us. Granted, no grand apology or sweet "I love you's" came from this, but it was something. Even when he dickishly told me that I needed a shower, I couldn't be mad.

He also regarded us with less repulsion than before. The way he looked at us reminded me of the stereotypical big brother in movies who slowly starts to realize how much of an asshole he was to his little brother, but his ego was in the way of admitting it. Sometimes I would catch Mike staring at us. When our gazes met, he would jolt slightly and avert his attention to something else.

I wondered if he was just used to our "disgusting" presence and no longer as annoyed as before, or if he was actually starting to see the error of his ways.

* * *

Praise the lord, Mike has got a job again. A high-paying one at that!

Mike had gotten a job as a lab technician. Even though he would be absent from home most of the time, my siblings and I still rejoiced. We saw it as a sign that things were finally getting back on track. We could finally say that the nightmare was ending.

* * *

So Mike has been looking for babysitters lately. Sure, Bonnie and I could suffice, but we weren't legal adults yet. Even if we were, we still attended high school and had jobs. So no matter what, there would always be a period of time where we weren't home to babysit Chica and Foxy.

I asked how he was going to hire a babysitter, unsettled by the idea of some stranger with the plastic disposition of a kindergarten teacher prancing around our house. Thankfully, he said he was going to just ask his cousin Jeremy since he trusts him and it would cost him nothing. I must have frowned at the former, because Mike went on to explain that the argument between him and Jeremy at the funeral was old news now. He said that Jeremy was supposed to pay for a portion of the funeral, but had a minor slip-up with his bank accounts. Already grieving, Mike had snapped at him.

It was so surreal hearing Mike be honest with me and admit to his own faults. He even said that apologized and made up with Jeremy since he was able to pay up his portion for the funeral in the end. Still, with the past year we've had, neither of us could even enjoy this moment without a tense, awkward silence. It was like a reminder that things would never go back to the way they used to be. But by all means, I was determined to at least _try_ to change that.

* * *

Jeremy certainly wasn't the irate man I remembered from the funeral.

He was short for a grown man, only reaching up to Bonnie's height. He was also scrawny. He had scruffy, chocolate brown tussles cradling his head and dark brown eyes. His entire presence just screamed innocence and meekness. He seemed fragile, like a kid that would get bullied at school. However, that didn't mean he carried himself pitifully. It just made him more easy to approach.

"I'm so proud of you, Mike," the shorter man said, giving our father a reassuring pat on the shoulder "I knew you had it in you."

Mike gave a dry chuckle "Thanks, man," he said as he worked to button his uniform top with one hand while the other held open the door.

I watched over my homework-covered desk as Mike explained a few minor details about the quirks in our house such as the draft in the guest room and the buggy TV downstairs before he finally left the house with a final goodbye.

Jeremy turned around and strolled towards the kitchen, stopping when he noticed me in the corner. He probably wasn't expecting to see me spying from my hidden post. I didn't blame him.

"Hey there, Freddy," he greeted "Need anything?"

It was clear he had never babysat before and was trying his best not to mess up. Even that simple question sounded like he was trying to gain my approval.

"No, thanks for asking, though," I declined.

Jeremy gave a nod and a smile before continuing to walk into the kitchen.

Needless to say, it was the most relaxing day I had had in awhile.


	8. Exhaustion

Jeremy took care of us for only a few months before we finally caught on to his strange behavior. The jittery movements and hypersensitivity seemed to have just come off as stress. That's why we never said anything when we wouldn't see him for long periods of time.

"_He must be overwhelmed_," Bonnie told me "_It's best to give him his space_."

We also took Jeremy's stuttering and racing thoughts as anxiety. Being older and wiser, Bonnie and I pitied the man. He could barely even stomach the food he made for us, which made him even more skinny. However, when his nose started bleeding while he was talking to Mike, that's when the truth came out.

* * *

"What the hell is this?!"

A block wrapped in brown paper slammed down on the kitchen table. I didn't want to believe it, but there was no mistaking the minute white clouds that flew out of the slits of the brown paper from the force of Mike's hand.

"I-I-It's not what you think—"

Before Jeremy could stammer out a half-assed excuse, Mike viciously ripped open the paper, revealing just what I had dreaded.

I could hear Foxy telling Chica to go upstairs from their position in the living room. They probably heard the commotion and instantly assumed that it was nothing to stick around for. God, didn't Mike at least have the decency to wait until we had gone to school to interrogate Jeremy? Didn't he think of the fact that although we weren't in the same room as him, we could still hear the chaos?

They yelled at one another all morning, Mike scolding Jeremy for his irresponsibility and blatant lying while Jeremy tried desperately to defend his case. When my siblings and I were finished getting ready for school, Jeremy was in tears. When we got home that day, he was gone.

I didn't know whether to feel upset or relieved.

* * *

When we heard that Fritz would be taking the place of Jeremy, we were paranoid, needless to say. If he was in the same family tree as Mike and Jeremy, he probably was no better than them, but Mike reassured us that Fritz was far different from Jeremy.

Unlike Fritz, Jeremy had a history of drug addiction (apparently, it had also sparked the argument at out mother's funeral; he was caught snorting coke in the bathroom) that Mike knew about. However, Jeremy had promised that he was clean, now. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

However, Mike has never had any problems with Fritz in the past. According to Mike, Fritz had always been a "goody-two-shoes", and that behavior had followed him into adulthood. He apparently also had a wife and two adult kids in college, which showed he was already experienced with children. Recently, he and his wife divorced, but Mike says that they're still on good terms.

With all of this in mind, we had a little bit more faith in this new babysitter. Even his physical appearance was the exact opposite of Jeremy. He was a chubby man with a much more cheerful appearance. His thick-rimmed glasses, carrot orange hair, and freckles complimented his overall nerdy presence.

"Kids, I'm sorry you had to see what happened to your cousin Jeremy," he told us in his most sincere tone "He's not a bad person. He's just sick. I know what you saw was probably really scary, but trust me, we'll take care of him. He's family, after all. We'd never leave him behind."

That was probably what immediately earned my trust. He had done something that Mike had neglected to do: heal the scars left from seeing Jeremy's true colors.

He was the closest thing to the father figure Mike once was that we had seen in years. By now, our hunger for paternal love had rendered us ravenous. We practically clung onto Fritz like leeches. Luckily, he seemed happy to oblige and give us all of the attention we desired. He catered to Chica's Daddy's Girl tendencies. He tended to Foxy's needs. He paid attention to Bonnie's silent communication. Even I admit to sharing my teenage woes with Fritz more often than I probably should have, but he didn't mind listening and giving me advice. His sympathy was about as addicting as opium.

* * *

When Fritz wasn't at work, he was in our home. Even when Mike was home, himself, Fritz was there to grace us with his presence, something we all appreciated. He would eat meals with us, spend the nights in the guest room, and help with the chores. That's around the time that things started getting strange.

Eventually, we found more and more of Fritz's clothes mixed with ours. His toothbrush regularly stood beside Foxy's and his bath towels were piling up. Our food was running out faster than usual, along with things like toothpaste and soap. Even the natural scent of his presence stuck around the house and mingled with ours. As much as we hated to admit it, Fritz was overstaying his welcome.

At some point, Fritz had spent five days in a row with us, never leaving the house once. We were all thinking the same thing, so one day, Mike offered to drive Fritz home, seeing as we've never seen him drive to or from here.

Fritz kindly declined, claiming he needed to walk to lose weight.

Mike then went on to ask where he works and how far away it was. Whatever answer Fritz had given him, Mike said it was a lie.

* * *

Fritz's disappearance was a soothing relief compared to Jeremy. One day, he walked out that door and never came back.

Turns out that he had a gambling problem, which not only resulted in his wife leaving him, but him gambling away his house and his car. He was also unemployed, which didn't make anything any better.

I was kinda sad to hear that. Fritz genuinely seemed like a good person, even though his frequent stays had become a nuisance. He was homeless now and just walking the streets to God knows where.

When I went to bed that night, I came to the realization that had let his cousin roam the streets, knowing that he hadn't a penny to his name. It downright sickened me. I would have gotten out of bed to argue with him, but I was much too tired. Tired of the lack of trust. Tired of having to fight. Tired of everything. So I went to bed with scorching hot words turning lukewarm in my throat.

* * *

Mike got a promotion at his job, which is great. But one of the consequences of that would be that he would be away from us every day and for many more hours. He even said that there would be periods of time where he had to travel and be gone for days on end. Even though I was nearly eighteen, I couldn't take care of a household for that long. I was still in school, too. So, Mike called one last person, someone he initially didn't want to bother because his job involved working with kids. But, being a family member, Mike had hoped that his cousin could extend a helping hand.

His name was Vincent.


	9. Purple

**After a busy (but fun) few weeks of finals testing, AP testing, prom, and graduation, I am happy to say that I have gone back to writing! And with my return, I have also created a new blog that will promote ALL of my stories (including the fem!tube AU): princejacque. Here, you will not only get updates of my stories, but also character trivia, teasers, writing/drawing tips, and memes of my stories (I'm sorry, but I just love memes too much). Thank you all for your patience and support!**

**Also, have y'all seen the new teaser for the FNAF sister location? It was kickin'!**

**I think the best way for me to warn you guys about this chapter without giving obvious spoilers is by saying that if this were real, Rob Dyke would most definitely narrate it on his channel.**

* * *

We were skeptical, to say the least. I can't say that Fritz and Jeremy were bad people. They were just in trouble. In fact, the longer I think about it, the more I kinda wish one of them had gotten the help that they needed so we could keep living with them. But Mike was unwilling to help either of them. Despite being their family, he just dropped them the minute they stopped being useful to them. So our fear—well, since I can't speak for the others—_my_ fear was that Vincent would be another great potential parent that Mike would turn away because he was troubled somehow. He was Mike's last cousin, too. I was about to turn eighteen, but I still couldn't handle the responsibility of being the head of household. Even with Mike working again, I would still be the only one home to take care of the others. It was just too much.

* * *

When I was told the guy watching over us worked at a daycare center, I didn't anticipate the man standing on front porch chewing gum like a teenager.

He was tall and slender in build with minute muscles. Unlike his cousins, his skin was an ambiguous brown color. His purple eye contacts only further hid his ethnicity. Like his eyes, his hair was an equally soft purple, tied into a low ponytail. His stubble, however, was a vague black if not dark brown color. A red plaid flannel and a pair of dark blue jeans topped off his careless look.

"May I help you?" I asked.

The man smiled "I guess that makes you Freddy."

I must have looked confused because the man put out his arms as if to display himself "It's your cousin Vincent, man!"

Before I could respond, Vincent's face fell into an understanding expression as he nodded to a statement I hadn't even given "I get it. Mike didn't tell you I was adopted," he said pointing at his face—no, his skin "Well, that's one thing we have in common, amiright?"

Maybe it was his straightforwardness. Maybe it was the fact that he actually spoke to me like an adult companion. Whatever it was I immediately took a liking to this guy.

I invited him in and introduced him to the others. Chica and Foxy were antsy, of course. Vincent didn't seem to understand why. Apparently, Mike hadn't told him about our recent history. Knowing Mike, he probably didn't tell Vincent about their cousins, period.

Vincent clearly had experience with kids, because regardless of Chica and Foxy's cold shoulder, he said nothing about it and let it be. When I showed him to Bonnie, just the sight of them seemed to tug a heartstring. The look in Vincent's eyes was that of infatuation. I honestly didn't find it strange. Bonnie had that kind of effect on people. Even without talking to them, one could easily see their brilliance, kindness, and countless other good qualities. It only became more apparent as they grew older and blossomed into their own.

In return, Bonnie liked Vincent as well, probably for the same reasons I did.

* * *

Like Fritz and Jeremy, everything went pretty smoothly. Even so, Foxy and Chica held their defenses. Chica gave Vincent plastic smiles that would fade away the moment he wasn't looking. Foxy, on the other hand, just openly expressed his reluctance to interact with him. It was almost funny seeing those two treat Vincent like a less-than-cool grandparent.

One difference with Vincent was that no day was uneventful. When Vincent noticed that we didn't really leave the house for anything other than school and work, he decided to fix that. He made sure to take us out of the house whenever the opportunity rose. Whether it was a walk around the park or a trip to the mall, we were out almost everyday.

At first, I didn't think I'd have the energy to even set foot outside, but I found myself rejuvenated by the little bit of freedom. It was as if my world had expanded beyond the confines of my home. We even discovered a promenade in our area that we had no idea existed.

There, we had the best ice cream sandwiches I had ever tasted. Instead of the conventional vanilla ice cream and chocolate cookies, we could choose our own variety of either. And damn, did they have a lot to choose from. The warm chocolate chip cookies melted the praline ice cream in my hands. It was so small, but it really brought me back to a much more blissful time, a time where I didn't have to worry about tomorrow or the day after.

We laughed and ate until the horizon melted into a pastel mess. I felt like a was a little boy again back in Spain. The day was mine to seize, and I had.

* * *

Bonnie started dating Alessia. It's about time!

* * *

One night, after Vincent had left and Mike had returned home, Bonnie and I had returned to our room.

They were lying on their bed with a book in their hands. I glanced up from my bed, debating whether or not I wanted to ask the question on my tongue. I must have been staring for a while because Bonnie looked at me.

Their gaze alone communicated "_What do you want?_"

"Never mind," I said, looking away.

Bonnie put down the book and gave me a nasty side glare that I could feel on the side of my face.

I sighed "It's nothing important. I just wanted to ask you…" Unfortunately, I had to look back up at Bonnie in order to see their hands "Y'know, like…what you thought of Vincent."

Much to my surprise, Bonnie smiled and put down their book "_You wanna know what I really think?_" they signed.

"What?" I pressed.

Bonnie snickered "_I think he's pretty damn hot_."

Every last drop of blood in my body rushed to my face. Had this been in any other situation, I probably would have found Bonnie's response amusing and surprising. However…

"_And judging by your face, you think so, too,_" they signed.

I swallowed, but didn't speak.

"_Plus, you keep staring at him with that dumb look on your face_," again, Bonnie laughed "_It is kinda weird, I know_."

"Yeah, but, everyone's heard of "The Hot Cousin", y'know? It ain't new," I stubbornly defended, my face still burning "And a crush is just a crush."

"_And we're not even blood-related_," signed Bonnie.

"Yeah…"

Silence.

"I think I'm heteroflexible."

"_What does that mean?_"

"I'm only attracted to girls, but, eh, sometimes…" I shrugged "Shit happens."

"_Like_?"

"Well, sometimes I see people who aren't women and I…y'know…" Thank God Bonnie was able to piece together my awkward body language. I loathed the idea of verbally expressing my sexual attraction. "Like, aside from Vincent…I met this nonbinary customer at Foot Locker the other day."

Bonnie's attention seemed to have piqued "_Really? What did they look like?_"

I could feel sweat prickling under my arms. I don't know why I had said that. There was no nonbinary customer at Foot Locker. I was indirectly referring to Bonnie, themself. Honestly, that was the dumbest thing I could have done.

"Ahh, psh, I hardly remember," I brushed off "They had blue hair, green eyes," I shrugged for probably the third time in that awkward exchange "I think they wore a red bowtie and suspenders."

At that last detail, Bonnie snickered "_They sound like a nerd_."

"It was cute-nerdy!" I said, happy that they didn't catch on.

It's just a crush.

It's not like we're blood-related.

* * *

It looks like Chica and Foxy have finally dropped their cold-shoulder. It took damn near six months, but it finally happened.

Last week, I heard Chica scream. Immediately, I ran into her bedroom in fear, only to see that she was actually just squealing in laughter because Vincent was tickling her.

As Vincent explained, they were playing an intense game of Monopoly and Chica playfully refused to give Vincent the dice for fear that he would win.

Then the other night, I really got a scare when I heard Foxy's yelp followed by a thud. After rushing down into the living room where the noise came from, it turned out that Foxy had laughed so hard at the comedian show he and Vincent were watching, that the poor kid fell off of the couch.

While Vincent seemed a little surprised by this, I wasn't. This wasn't the first time Foxy had doubled over in laughter. And after Vincent rewinded the joke, I can see why this led Foxy to laugh so hard.

It's kinda funny when I look back at these instances. Both times I thought that Foxy and Chica were in danger when they were actually just having fun. You see a lot of moments like that in cartoons growing up. We all know what I'm talking about. A new character shows up. One or more of the main characters is suspicious. When they think they've finally caught the new guy hurting one of their friends, it turns out to be a big misunderstanding. It's weird having that happen in real life. Almost scary in a way.

* * *

Today was my eighteenth birthday. When Vincent asked what I was going to do, I told him that we haven't been really celebrating our birthdays because money was tight. He was utterly shocked by this. Almost immediately, he jumped to his feet and declared that he was going to do something special for me.

He called up Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy, and told them that he was going to take us to Dave &amp; Buster's to celebrate my birthday.

Unfortunately, Foxy was sick. It was obvious by his appearance alone before anyone even had to say anything.

I considered possibly postponing the trip altogether because he looked really bad, and I didn't want to drag him out of the comfort of our house just for my enjoyment. Instead, Bonnie offered to stay home and watch Chica and Foxy.

"Besides, it's your eighteenth birthday!" chimed Chica You're an adult now. I'm sure you wouldn't really enjoy spending it with your younger siblings."

"Aw, I'd love to spend time with you guys," I reassured her.

She raised a brow at me "We live together, Freddy. One day of fun by yourself isn't unreasonable to ask for."

I had to admit, the years had been kind to Chica. She was only twelve years old and already she was twice as wise as I was at that age. But thankfully, that wiseness didn't lead her to being bitter. She had a perfectly good head on her shoulders. Man, I can't wait to see the kind of woman she'd grow up to be.

* * *

Goddamn! I must have really went all out at Dave &amp; Buster's, because the next morning, I had a massive headache and every muscle in my body ached. Even after I slept in that morning, I still felt dizzy and everything from the hips down hurt like hell.

I must have been a sight to see, because Bonnie stared at me for a long time.

* * *

What did I do last night? There's blood on my blankets!

* * *

Bonnie said I hit my head on Vincent's car door last night, and that's where the headache and the blood came from. That's also why they stuck around this morning to watch me. It wouldn't have been the first time I've hit my head on a car door, considering my height, but I must have really done it this time if the blood ended up in the middle of the bed.

* * *

Oh god, it's nighttime and I still feel awful. Did I really overexert myself that much? Considering that was the first time I had ever actually partied, maybe I'm just not used to it.

* * *

I just heard Foxy and Chica leave the house. Where are they going? The park? Are they hanging out with their new friends?

* * *

Heh, the neighbors sure are being noisy today…

* * *

Is Bonnie still at work? I haven't seen them all day.

* * *

I was in the middle of watching another movie when Bonnie came in. They looked absolutely terrible. Their eyes were red and their skin was flushed and sweaty.

"Did you catch Foxy's cold?" I asked. Though, Bonnie looked even worse than him.

Bonnie shook their head "_I might have the flu_," they signed "_And then today was a rough day at work._"

"Yikes," I said "Take it easy, Bon. Don't overdo it like I did."

Bonnie practically flopped into bed. They slept like a rock that night.

* * *

Mike called us today. I say "us" because when Foxy picked up the phone, Mike told him to put him on speaker and gather everyone around.

He had called to apologize.

Not just for being away for so long. Not just for the drinking. But, for everything.

Mike had given a long, honest apology for everything he had done, even things that I hadn't even noticed, even things he didn't do on purpose. There were no excuses, and no blame-shifting. He had carried the weight of it all.

There were tears and outright sobs, from both him and all of us.

Typically, people who look at abuse say that the victim should never, under any circumstances, accept the apology of their abuser or forgive them. But when Mike spoke to us that day, I remembered Bonnie's words: "_Mike would never act like this. The demons of liquor and grief are what turned him into this new man_."

I was glad.

The loving father who adopted us into his home would come back from his business trip.

* * *

Chica and Foxy are hanging out with their friends again. I got to meet them earlier. Apparently, Chica was a part of a large clique of girls from the neighborhood. They weren't the stereotypical mean girls group. Quite the opposite. They were all shy and nerdy. Clearly the outcasts, but good kids nonetheless. Foxy befriended two guys from his school. I couldn't say they were too bright, but they were pretty funny.

* * *

Huh, Bonnie's gone too? Why didn't I notice them leave? I guess I have the house to myself.

* * *

Alessia dropped by recently. She looked like she had been crying. She asked for Bonnie, and when I said I hadn't seen them, she struggled to hold in another wave of tears. I asked her what was wrong, which seemed to break the dam in her eyes.

Behind her incoherent blubbering, she managed to get out the statement "They broke up with me, but didn't say why."

* * *

I sat in the foyer for hours, waiting for Bonnie to come home. Breaking up with Alessia is one thing. Not giving her a reason and leading her to believe that it was all her fault is another. Whether Bonnie realized that or not, I had to correct them.

I heard the door slam. I perked up, looking at the front door, but the slam had come from downstairs.

I turned around to see Bonnie coming up the stairs. How did they get there so fast?

"What the hell?!" I spat.

They looked at me with exhausted eyes. Again, they looked terrible.

"Where have you been all day?" I asked.

"_Work_," Bonnie lazily signed.

"So in that case, you've seen Alessia today."

Bonnie looked down.

"She's blaming herself for the breakup, Bon," I said "It's okay to break up with someone, but at least give them a reason."

Bonnie sighed through their nose "_It didn't work out_."

"Did you tell her that?"

"_Yes_."

"Well, you're going to have to clarify that with her because she still thinks you dumped her for no reason."

Bonnie gave me a dark look, but as usual, my mouth went forward before my mind could keep up.

"So why didn't it work out?" I asked.

Bonnie then signed to me "_None of your fucking business_," and marched up the stairs.

I was honestly shocked.

Never had Bonnie ever signed something like that to me. And this was the first time they had ever dropped the F-bomb.

This…this was weird.

* * *

I had completely forgotten about all of the weird events when Mike returned from his business trip. He told us all about the antics that occurred with him and his lab partners. Although I found the stories too boring the remember, I was just glad to have Mike back to the way he was. It didn't even matter that he would be going back to work soon. The fact that he was happy and nurturing again was all I needed.

He was impressed to hear about all of the fun things that happened while he was away. He seemed about as relieved as the rest of us that Vincent turned out to be such a great guardian.

* * *

Today, Mike got to see me graduate.

They took my picture as I reached for the diploma and shook my principal's hand. I could see my classmates and friends in the crowd before me. I hugged my teachers. I met with my family outside.

Five years ago, I never could have imagined myself where I am today. Somehow, through the grace of God, himself, I made it.

* * *

Funny, I've been on summer vacations before, but I'm just now noticing how long the days are.

* * *

When Mike went back to work, Vincent wanted to take me out for ice cream to make up for missing graduation. I told him he didn't have to, but he insisted.

We sat in his car that night, watching the stars and listening to the crickets chirping. It was so nice and peaceful, just embracing nature in its simplicity.

I started getting sleepy and dozed off in the backseat. In my last waking moments, I felt Vincent wrap a blanket around me and kiss my cheek. He ran his fingers through my hair at a soothing pace, then massaged my shoulders, then my arms, then my sides…

* * *

My body hurts again. Since I hadn't done much yesterday, I decided to chalk it up to either growing pains or working out too hard. Maybe I should be stretching more before I jump into my exercises.

* * *

The neighbors are being noisy again. I swear they only do this when I have the house to myself.

* * *

One night, the noise finally woke me up from my sleep. I tried to ignore it and pull my pillow over my head, but it was too loud. That's when I noticed something.

It wasn't coming from the window. It was coming from the air vent.

I sat up in bed, a chill running up my spine. This sound was coming from within the house.

I reached out to wake up Bonnie, only to realize that they weren't there.

I stepped out of the room and went straight to Mike's bedroom "Dad, I think there's…" Oh, that's right. Mike was working the night shift, which meant it was up to me to fix whatever was causing this noise. Otherwise, I compromise a good night's rest.

A cruel childhood fear arose in me as I realized that I had never once gone down into the basement since I had set foot in Mike's house.

Of course, I scoffed at myself "_Heh, I'm not scared_."

Without further ado, I opened the door and descended down the stairs. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't the grey, concrete prison I had fabricated in mind. The stairs were a nicely polished hardwood. As I passed the furnace, I noted that the humming noise emitting from it was not at all what I had been hearing for the past few months. Upon noticing that, my ears picked up the real noise.

"_Aha!_" I thought to myself.

It was a tired creaking, but mingled with a few other odd sounds that were too quiet to interpret. Even now that I was in the room, the hum of the furnace still masked the true nature of the muffled sounds. And so, I entered the heart of the basement to find the source.

The pleasantly inviting lounge-like room around me couldn't have cushioned the horror my eyes had set upon.

On the plush, king-sized bed was Vincent with Bonnie underneath him. Bonnie looked up at me with that same sickly appearance. We locked eyes for what felt like forever.

I was utterly petrified by what I had seen. I was stuck in place with my mouth open in a silent scream. My body didn't know whether to try and escape, run to help Bonnie, or collapse from disbelief. Whatever decision it was going to make, it didn't matter. Vincent's hands were on me and the bed went flush against my back. In those next few moments, I came to two horrible answers to my questions.

The first was when Vincent was inside of me, I found the source of my lower body pain and the blood on my bed.

The second was when the bed frame creaked under our weight and Vincent grunted and moaned, I found the source of the noise that I had mistaken for my neighbors.

* * *

I thought after the first time, I would surely die. I didn't expect to wake up the next morning with Bonnie at my side. They comforted me as I cried. After only a few minutes of releasing my pain, they tried to usher me back upstairs so we could clean up before Mike got home.

Call it my own pride or fear, but for some reason, I went along with Bonnie's plan. I cleaned up and slipped back into my own bed as if nothing had happened. I couldn't bring myself to tell Mike. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone. At least, not at the moment. I wasn't ready. I needed time before I could relay those events to someone else. But I forgot that Mike would have to go back to work at some point, therefore my time was cut short.

I told Bonnie that we had to tell Mike, and they panicked, telling me that Vincent would kill Chica and Foxy if we told. I tried to reassure Bonnie that he was only bluffing, but they told me that Vincent had given them a present with a decapitated rabbit inside to show that he meant business. He had also threatened to kill Alessia if Bonnie didn't dump her.

It was at this point that Bonnie had started crying. It was also at this point that I had realized that Bonnie had been keeping quiet about this for over three months, and not once did they break.

* * *

I tried to convince Mike to let me babysit Foxy and Chica, but he insisted that it was too much responsibility and that I deserved to be taken care of for once. Regardless, I was persistent, enough for Mike to finally start growing suspicious.

"If you're planning on hosting some house party while I'm gone, you can forget it," he joked.

"I'm serious!" I snapped, my voice cracking.

Mike looked at me in genuine concern when I did this "Freddy, what is the matter with you?," he asked "Is there something about Vincent that bothers you?"

"No, no, it's just…" I couldn't even think of a good lie. When I thought of Vincent, my stomach turned.

Mike patted me on the back "Listen, I know you're responsible, but after everything you guys went through, I just want to make sure you're safe. And Vincent has shown a lot of promise."

"I know…I know."

* * *

Foxy must have overheard the conversation between Mike and I, because he stopped me on the way to the bathroom and said "Y'know, this has been the happiest we've been in years. I don't see why you'd wanna fuck it up."

I was shocked, to say the least "I don't! I just—"

"Vincent isn't like that," punctuated Foxy "He actually sees us for who we are, and not just our needs."

"Foxy—"

"Don't."

My brother walked away, having dominated the conversation, leaving me with a strange feeling. It was something that swallowed up my heart into its mighty gullet, something I never considered feeling in a situation like this.

Guilt.

* * *

Bonnie and I looked to each other for support whenever things got overwhelming. Even on the nights that Vincent babysat, we would keep that support. Bonnie would hold my hand as Vincent took me, and I would hold theirs when Vincent took them. We would try to soothe one another whenever the pain was too much.

Vincent found it cute and endearing. Unfortunately, it gave him a perverse idea rather than any sympathy for us. He would force us to make love while he watched. If I were perfectly honest, the both of us preferred it this way. Bonnie and I could trust the other not to hurt us the way Vincent had. As sick as it was, it was still a much better alternative.

* * *

Apparently, I haven't been the nicest to people as of late. Foxy outright called me "bipolar" because I flipped a switch on him over something stupid. I don't even remember what it was.

* * *

I swear, Foxy, Chica, and Mike must be messing with me because I keep hearing someone call my name, but when I go to any of them, they deny it. I don't find this funny at all. If anything, it's petty as fuck.

* * *

I don't understand. My temper's never been this bad before. I just yelled at Chica. Thank god she was old enough to check me and put me in my place before I did something reckless. Maybe this whole "thing" is just stressing me out. Of course, that's what it has to be. I'll just have Bonnie calm me down and it'll be okay.

* * *

I know I'm doing this for Chica and Foxy, but how long…How long do I have to keep doing this? I'm so tired…I hurt everywhere…I feel sick…

* * *

What the hell?! Where did these scratches come from?! Was it from Vincent? Why would he cut along my abdomen like this? Did he do this in my sleep?

* * *

Someone put a pairing knife in my drawer…

* * *

There's someone in the house. I'm not safe here.

* * *

I saw them…!

* * *

"Who are you?"

There was a man in my reflection. He was me, but with golden hair and clothes. His grin was forced as he looked back into my eyes "You, silly!" he chirped.

I shook my head, backing away from the mirror "This is crazy. I-I need to go to work. I need to see Charlotte a-and the other coworkers a-and—"

"Aww! Do you really have to go?" I could hear him, even with my back turned "I wanted to play some games. What's one day off of work?"

I opened and clenched my fists.

"Come on, I know you don't wanna go. Aren't you tired from the pounding cousin Vince gave you last night?" a loud ringing sounded in my ears and I clutched them tight. Behind me, I could tell my golden reflection was covering his mouth "Oh! I shouldn't have said that. Don't want ol' Shadow to come in and ruin the fun."

I lowered my hands as the pain in my ears subsided "Shadow?"

"Oh, you've met him before," my reflection said "Well, _heard_ him. You've heard all of us before!"

I continued speaking without turning around, fearful of facing the truth "There's more of you?"

"Oh yes, and we're all excited to get to play with you, Freddy."

* * *

I didn't tell anyone about my find. I doubted anyone would believe me in the first place if I had told them that I had found a ghost that looks like me in my mirror. Apparently, it's true that ghosts can choose who to make themselves visible to, because Bonnie never saw him. I had come to calling him Goldie even though he insisted that he was me. He must have been living in some kind of delusion or limbo. Maybe he's posing as me to earn my trust.

I wanted to ignore him, but he was such a chatterbox. He wanted me to play games when I should have gone to work or done chores. Sometimes they were cute things like Patty Cake, which I would just do once in hopes to shut him up. Other times, they would be improve games that seemed very reminiscent of sinister rituals like Bloody Mary. Sometimes I would give in to these games just out of pure curiosity, and the next thing I knew, an entire day had passed.

* * *

I think I got fired. I couldn't have been gone for that long. It must have been that racist boss. He couldn't handle having a Spaniard in his work area.

* * *

Yesterday, Goldie got mad at me because I didn't want to play with him anymore. For some reason or another, he said "You know, I may be golden, but my favorite color was always _purple_."

I groaned when a horrible pain lashed across my skull. It was brief, but strong. Then, there was a second voice.

"Heh, what's the matter fucktoy? I've seen you take a lot more pain before."

I screamed when I saw myself standing before me. My hair was dark purple, and my clothes were a hideous black. The figure pushed me onto my back and crouched over me, looking deep into my eyes with his pure white pupils.

"Are you scared, Fredboy? Are you scared?" he asked.

I was hyperventilating as panic swept over my body. The bright bedroom around me morphed into the dark basement below. My figure held my hands above my head and sneered down at me "You know it's your fault for going down there," he growled.

The creaking sounds of the bed below me started flooding my ears as the figure above me laughed maniacally.

When Foxy found me on the floor, screaming, he called in Mike. I lied through all of the questioning and rested in Mike's bed that day. I could still hear the quiet laughter in the corners of my mind.

* * *

Shadow and Goldie were always with me now. I wondered if they were the same ghost, and simply imitated my appearance just for the sake of torturing me. It seemed like the only reasonable explanation.

In defense, I started wearing my crucifix necklace around the house and carried my bible with me. However, that only seemed to make things worse.

"Really? Pulling out your religion on us like we're vampires? Quit embarrassing yourself! We're all you."

This Freddy had burned skin from the fire that killed his family all those years ago. His hair was tar black and greasy. His clothes were black and charred, as well.

I gave up asking each Freddy who they were, because in the end, they would all say that they were me, and I would deny it. In fact, I gave up trying to talk to them. So I looked at this one, assigned him the name "Phantom", and went back to reading my bible.

It was easier said than done. Phantom was very brooding and pessimistic. His words tugged my spirit down like weights. Even as I turned the pages of the bible, my tears began staining them too much. I had to set it aside and lie down. Phantom continued to speak to me as I wept.

* * *

The last Freddy was definitely the worst. Although he couldn't reach me in real life, he did see me in my nightmares, which was even worse.

Unlike the others, he had a sickening slasher smile plastered on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and he had every wound I had every suffered in the past permanently engraved on his skin. Tendrils with fanged mouths on the ends wriggled and writhed from his body.

He told me to kill.

* * *

No.

* * *

Oh god, I even see them when I'm with Vincent.

Shadow mocks me by calling me a slut and a fucktoy. Goldie talks about how fun it looks and how much I must be enjoying it.

I would grow aggravated by the taunting and scream back at the demons. Vincent would choke me in order to keep me quiet. Bonnie would try to stop him and get slapped in return.

* * *

Phantom and Nightmare are telling me to do things to Vincent, things that would probably get me killed.

God, they won't stop screaming at me…

* * *

Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break. Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break. Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break. Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break. Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break. Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break. Cut. Stab. Choke. Bleed. Break.

* * *

I…I did it. I slipped the pairing knife into my pajama bottoms and got him.

Phantom and Nightmare were wrong, so, so wrong. I didn't have what it took to kill someone.

As Vincent swore under his breathe and clutched his bleeding arm, tears rolled out of my unblinking eyes. I looked at Bonnie, who looked back at us in horror. Finally, Vincent swung at me in anger "You're really gonna get it now…!"

I barely dodged in time. I flopped off of the bed and ran up the stairs. All the while, Vincent yelled at me. It was only when I made it out of the basement that I had heard his footsteps pounding after me.

I had no idea what I was thinking, if I was thinking at all. It was the middle of the night and no one in this neighborhood would be awake, but I ran out of the house, regardless. I was like a gorilla who had just escaped from the zoo. I had no direction. I just ran in order to get away from Vincent. The concrete scratched hard against my bare feet. I could taste blood in my throat as I panted. My adrenaline was outmatching my physical strength, and I could feel my vision grow blurry and hazy.

A long horn and a pair of blinding car headlights.

The impact wasn't painful, but it certainly was jarring. I felt like I was knocked out of my body.

There were faces, shouts, lights, and sirens. Then, there was darkness.


	10. Epilogue: Bittersweet

August 4th, 2014

Recently, the quiet district of Rosenheim, Germany has been rattled by a disturbing event.

At 1:37 A.M., June 1st, a young man by the name of Fredward Antonio ran out into the middle of the street in what was suspected to be a an attempted suicide. He was struck by a passing car, but luckily escaped with only minor injuries.

It was revealed in the hospital that Antonio had recently been the victim of a rape just moments before the accident, which reveals that he had only run out into the street to escape the rapist. Neighbors also reported hearing panicked screaming and a loud commotion outside at the time of the incident, which further proves that Antonio's actions were not an attempted suicide. Although when questioned, the man, himself, refused to answer.

The brother and uncle were present at the time of the incident. The brother, Jean Bonnefoy, who could only communicate through sign language, that their uncle Vincent Mauve had been sexually abusing the both of them for months and threatened to kill their family if either brother told. Police questioned the younger siblings, Ciana and Foxy, who were unaware of their brothers' abuse. However, they stated that Antonio's mental state had heavily declined during the time Mauve was around. He had suffered hallucinations, violent mood swings, and self harm. It was soon revealed that Antonio had schizophrenia, which was already present in his system, but only emerged after his abuse. Mauve was promptly arrested.

It was also revealed that Mauve was asked to babysit the brothers and their younger siblings by their father, Michael Schmidt. Schmidt was put up for questioning, and admitted that he was completely unaware of Mauve's abuse.

"_My other cousins were just too irresponsible to take care of them_," said Schmidt "_One was a gambler. The other was a drug addict. Vincent was the only one I could trust at that point. I had no idea what a sick bastard he was_."

Schmidt begged to take the children back into his care after Antonio was released from the hospital, but further inspection of the family revealed unsettling information about the father. After the death of his wife, Schmidt suffered alcoholism. Even though he was in the process of sobriety and was now working a successful job, the court still deemed Schmidt too unpredictable to be a reliable parent. Instead, a close family friend by the name of Gilbert Phillips and his husband, Tony Giles, adopted all four of the children. Both men were heavily inspected to be sure that they would not mistreat the children like their past guardians have. Thankfully, they were proven to be reliable parents.

It has been over a month since then and the family is still checked on periodically. Phillips and Giles have proven to be trustworthy, consistent parents, but supervision will continue as a safety precaution.

"_I always worried for the kids. That's why I left so many messages for Mike. It was the least I could do since I live in America_," said Phillips "_Mike was a good friend, but these kids come first. They don't deserve what they've been through. Tony and I promise to protect them with our lives from now on_."

From what the children have said, Phillips has been able to keep his word. Unlike their experience with Michael Schmidt, the children were allowed to meet both Phillips' and Giles' family members and visit them often, giving them more familial bonds and safety. Ciana and Foxy see their own counselors to talk about their past. Bonnefoy and Antonio are being treated for their trauma. Antonio is reported to be making great progress in battling his disorder.

"I've had good experiences with people who ended up hurting me before, but I truly believe that the nightmare is over," claims Antonio "Tony and Gilbert are different. They're not like Mike and the others. We're happy here in America. I thank god everyday I get to wake up in that house to a secure family…and I'm happy to have survived those five years at Mike's."

-Scott Cawthon, The Conrad Beacon.

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**Even though Scott Cawthon is the creator of the game, The Conrad Beacon is just a fictional newspaper name I made up. Obviously, I'm not claiming that Scott based the original FNAF game series on real life events or anything like that.**

**Thank you all so much for reading the story and thank you for the support! 3**


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